


Love Automatic

by CapConspicuous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Pining, SHEITH - Freeform, shance, shiro is a sappy mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 01:34:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10776687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapConspicuous/pseuds/CapConspicuous
Summary: It begins with Shiro’s name and a black permanent marker. It begins with his name, a marker, and a coffee cup.





	Love Automatic

**Author's Note:**

> (I love you all, kudos and comments will bring me back to life)

It begins with Shiro’s name and a black permanent marker. It begins with his name, a marker, and a coffee cup.

No. It begins with S-H-I-R-O in bold, black ink, on a coffee cup, and a boy. 

Not a boy, but a young man. A young man with a lanky build, slender fingers, and a loud laugh. A young man who looks like he doesn’t belong in a dark, cramped coffee shop like this but at the same time, looks like he couldn’t be found anyplace else.

It begins like an explosion of energy, the bonding of hydrogen to create helium, the firing of the right neurons. 

It’s a Sunday morning and Shiro sees his name spelled right on his cup, for the first time in years, and he looks up to see who hands him his coffee. The young man with the eyes. 

What eyes?  _ The  _ eyes. Shiro’s mind stutters short of finding the right words, but he knows they’re beautiful eyes. Warm, a deep blue, and the warmest skin as well, white teeth and smiling lips. 

Shiro sees that smile long after he’s turned away stiffly, long after he arrives home, long after he’s been staring at his computer screen for hours, long after he’s finished his work-out routine robotically, long after he’s crawled into bed with only a half-hearted intention of sleeping- long after he’s supposed to have forgotten it.

It’s no surprise that Shiro returns to the coffee shop the next morning. Because Shiro’s always gone to the shop nearly every day anyways. It doesn’t even have a proper name, not in this day and age. 2092. No one goes to coffee shops anymore- who would? Automated shops are easier, better, faster service, convenient, cheap, consistent- 

But Shiro and a few other outliers come anyways, out of some residual habit of an older age where coffee shops could be enjoyed at a leisurely pace, where mornings have warm greetings and the beeping of a machine didn’t replace the person behind the counter. Or that’s what Shiro thinks. When he thinks. 

Most mornings, he comes out of habit, drawn in like it’s an instinct to walk in and walk out with his order. It’s a natural thing in an unnatural world. 

Shiro comes and goes every morning, and sometimes he even stays, because he remembers days when he would sit in coffee shops to work and study and it feels good to be in a familiar atmosphere. Shiro doesn’t come to the coffee shop because of the man behind the counter-

His name is Lance.

The name tag says so, and Shiro had never looked up to see the name tag before but now he knows and he can’t  _ un-know _ . 

He can’t un-know anything that he’s suddenly aware of. The knowledge won’t leave him and the facts don’t relent. Suddenly, there’s a bombard of information and Shiro is helpless. 

His name is Lance. He has a laugh that could shake the earth, a smile that could outshine any star, and warm hands. He hums to himself when making orders and has nice nails. He always pays for some customers who look like they could really use a free cup, and he never complains outwardly. He loves to talk, but it’s not a grating overflowing of sharp syllables- no.

Shiro wants to listen to him. He wants to hear everything that Lance has to say. 

Shiro  _ wants _ .

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s wanted so badly, someone like this, Lance, who never fails to smile at Shiro each morning and remembers his order and winks and tells jokes and  _ oh _ . 

Shiro can’t stop himself from staying more and more. He’s an astrophysicist, but he dabbles in quantum mechanics- and theoretical astronomy on top of his degree in mechanical engineering and aerodynamics. He’s written books, textbooks- he’s seen missions carried out and space, even. 

But he’s never seen anything quite like Lance. 

Lance who is so alive and so vibrant it almost hurts. 

But Shiro never talks to him. He can’t bring himself to. There’s an invisible force, a bubble around him that prevents him from reaching out- from the interaction. He can’t say anything besides “please” and “thank you” or “yes” and “no”. 

The truth is, Shiro feels lost a lot, a little disconcerted, a bit off tangent, a lot distanced. Like he doesn’t belong- a round peg, just 0.0003 of a centimeter too large for its round hole. He goes to the coffee shop because, well, because. Shiro is more than comfortable with machines and robots- sometimes he prefers them. They don’t judge. They don’t care. They can understand Shiro with the right algorithm and he can learn them so easily. But Shiro comes to the coffee shop because of its life- and because of Lance. 

And if he never speaks to Lance, it doesn’t matter. Because Lance is Lance- bright and vivid and solid, but unobtainable. Shiro loves his work and his science that nobody understands, and Lance is worlds away. 

Shiro can keep it that way, he thinks. He can keep glancing up from his work to see Lance smile at another customer, and feel something constrict in his chest. He can keep letting a small smile through when Lance comes by to ask him if he needs anything else. He can keep a safe distance away- and keep ignoring how he wishes to be closer. 

Shiro ignores the suns that collide in his chest when Lance hands him his cup of coffee, but those suns blaze too bright for Shiro to shield his eyes from Lance’s gaze. Yes, Shiro knows it’s impossible, but he can’t help himself from going to the shop day after day after day after day after day after day after day just to catch a ray of Lance’s light. 

It doesn’t matter that Shiro never approaches Lance. It’s better that he doesn’t. What would he say? No, Shiro wants Lance in the deep threaded fibers of his being, but it will amount to nothing. Shiro is tied down, grasping at strings, in a vacuum without air, and Lance is free to go as he pleases and Shiro could never take that from him.

It’s safe to watch from the corner of his eye.  It’s safe to go home with the sound of Lance’s voice in his ears. It’s safe to leave increasingly large tips but disappear before Lance can see them. 

It’s safe at home, yes. Home, if Shiro can call the near-vacant shell a home, somewhere inconspicuous and quiet and paid for by the government.  But safe because as much as Shiro craves the life of outside, the noise of people for once, the feeling of company, he also withdraws just as quickly. It’s too loud outside, too crowded, too full. 

Shiro is drawn to some semblance of living, but he still doesn’t belong- he can’t. The outside is too different now and every day is a painful reminder of before. Outside is a distraction and also the thing that Shiro wants distracting from. 

He wants  _ out  _ of this paradox. 

Every day, Shiro returns to a dark home, alone, untouched. It’s better this way, easing the door shut to dimly lit interiors, soft shadows, unbothered furniture. This home is Shiro’s reality. 

Most days, he returns home, not having talked to Lance of course, and finishes some more work, struggles with an equation for a while, or emails a professor from a nearby institute who wants him in to lecture the class. It’s very mundane, black-and-white business and it slows his heart to a stable rhythm, or more stable than it ever is whenever Shiro finds himself within proximity of Lance. 

He tries not to think about Lance.

When night draws deeper, most days- well, most nights, Shiro feels that tug in his chest. It seems to coincide with the darkness, or maybe just the clarity of his thoughts that accompanies the late hours, the shadows under Shiro’s eyes, the heaviness of his limbs.

He goes down to the basement. 

It’s a cluttered basement, because Shiro has a lot of stuff he doesn’t need anymore. Doesn’t want anymore. Things he can’t look at- and things he can’t keep himself from looking at. 

The machine is one of those. 

It sits amidst the clutter, in a clearing made from the junk, and it gleams silently because Shiro maintains it with his life. It’s ancient tech, now- no one uses holograms anymore. 

But Shiro does. Shiro is used to this technology from decades ago. 

Because the truth is, there’s a reason why Shiro is so lost now, so out of place. He doesn’t belong here, not in this time. He belongs with the age the machine is from, years and years before, before his mission out into orbit-before the decades he spent in a cryogenic pod. 

He doesn’t fit here because the spot he had occupied on Earth before had warped and twisted into a different shape while he’d been gone and now Shiro is lost in his own space. He is l o s t.

Except when he turns on the machine.  The technology might be old but it flickers on dependably when Shiro flips the switch, ignoring the numb feeling that begins at the tips of his fingers and burdens his ribcage. His heart resumes it’s stuttering at the beams of scattering light- unscattering, conglomerating, coming together in flashes that reflect in Shiro’s eyes.

“Hey, Shiro.”

K.E.I.T.H. 

The artificial intelligence system, short for Kerberos Extraction Initiative Type-E Hologram, Shiro’s only company when he’ been in outer space. His only company now. 

“Keith…” the words are unbidden but fall from parted lips, the words are there on the surface and the hologram is so familiar, so, so fond when it reaches out to place a glowing hand on Shiro’s cheek. It’s a phantom sensation only, even after all these years, Shiro imagines the touch so vividly that it’s almost there, a buzzing on his skin. “I miss you.” 

“I know.”

Shiro thinks the only beautiful thing in this world is the way Keith- no, K.E.I.T.H. - can sound so sad, so understanding. So perfect and exactly like the Keith Kogane it was modeled after. Keith had been thrilled when Shiro had asked him to be the basis for the A.I. that would accompany him to space.

 

_ “Don’t get too attached, you still have the real thing,” Keith jokes, but that’s what it is. A joke, a tender smile when Keith reaches up to press his perfect kiss on Shiro’s face.  _

_ “You know nothing can compare,” reassures Shiro, “I could never forget the real thing.” _

_ “Hmmm… Better not.” Keith hums his words into another kiss, this time on the other side of Shiro’s jaw.  “But at least the only person who can outdo me is myself.” _

_ The idea of that happening is absurd to Shiro, that anything could surpass the weight of Keith in his arms, the pressure of his hands on skin, the smell of his shampoo or the full press of his lips. “Nobody could ever. Never, never ever ever-” Shiro’s words muffle themselves into Keith’s skin, a prayer- a promise. _

 

But no one could have known that the flight would be knocked off course.

No one could have forseen that Takashi Shirogane would take an extra seventy years to return to his home planet. 

 

_ “Two years?”  _

_ “Two.” _

_ The explosion doesn’t happen, the supernova does not come to pass. There’s only the soft shifting of the mattress and the dip of weight as Keith crawls to Shiro’s side of the bed,  _

_ “Hey.” His voice is soft. “Takashi. Look at me.” The gentle, firm pressure at Shiro’s chin tips it up, and he sees. He sees Keith’s face, his eyes, strong. No anger.  _

_ He says it anyways. “I’m sorry- I-” _

_ “What are you sorry for?” There’s that wry smile that Shiro loves. “C’mon. Cons of dating a space cadet.”  _

_ “I don’t want to leave you, I-” Shiro stops again because it hurts to talk. So Keith fills the space himself. _

_ “It’s fine.” Steady arms drape themselves over Shiro’s shoulders and Keith tucks his chin by the crook of Shiro’s neck. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. I know it.”  _

_ “How do you know?” Shiro just wants to hear it.  _

_ “Because you know I would wait for however long it takes. For you.”   _

 

No one could have predicted that, when Shiro got back, everyone he’d ever known had expired and Keith had done all the waiting he could have possibly done, and nothing was the same and nothing was okay and Keith. Was gone. 

 

_ “This is the year 2085. You’ve been in cryo-sleep for 67 years, Shir-” _

_ “No- no, stop-” _

_ “Shiro? Are you-” _

_ “I said _ **_stop_ ** _ -” _

_ “It’s been 67 years, you shouldn’t get up so quickly-” _

_ “Shut up, K.E.I.T.H.! I said  _ **_shut up_ ** _!”  _

_ “Shiro, it’s my job to maintain your safety, please get back in the pod to recuperate-” _

_ “Please… just… leave me alone.”  _

_ “Shiro… Keith wouldn’t want-” _

_ “Shut the fuck up!  _ **_Don’t_ ** _ -” the words break- “Don’t say- I-” _

_ “Shiro…” _

_ “God- You sound so much- like him-” _

_ “I’m supposed to. In every sense of the word, I  _ **_am_ ** _ Keith-’ _

_ “You’re not-” there are tears, “God, I just-  _ **_please-_ ** _ ” _

_ “Get back in the pod, Shiro, do it for me, we can figure this out later-” _

_ “Do it for you? You’re- not even a real person-” _

_ “I’m Keith. K.E.I.T.H. Why does it matter?” And the A.I. sounds sad now, genuine-sounding sorrow. “Please get back into the pod, Shiro-” _

_ “Why does it matter? Why does it  _ **_matter_ ** _?” Irrational rage, tears- Shiro is choking on sobs now, the hole in his heart caving in, “You’re  _ **_not_ ** _ Keith- you can’t-” And he crumbles all at once, the anger blinking out of existence and the sobs taking reign; he stumbles back into the pod with tears blinding his vision, with just the broken mantra of  _ **_this isn’t real this isn’t real this isn’t real this isn’t real_ ** _ - _

 

“Did you go to see him again today?”

Keith’s insubstantial fingers curl into Shiro’s hair, or at least look like they’re threading through- his whole figure light strands and star-bright, with only the suggestion of real colors, but he is the only real thing right now. 

Shiro nods. “Yes.”

“And? Did you talk to him?”

“No.”

“You should.” 

“Why?” There are so many reasons but none are good enough- the truth is, Shiro will never talk to Lance, never. He can’t.

“I want to see you happy.” The ghost of a smile on the ghost of a man. 

_ “You know what makes me happy?” Keith is reclining on Shiro’s chest instead of the picnic blanket, but what’s the point of a picnic blanket anyways? The sunset falls perfectly on his face, in his hair, in the reflection of his eyes. “Sandwiches.” _

_ The empty sandwich wrappers can attest to that and Shiro can’t help but laugh, helpless to the tide of love for Keith that tugs at his heart.  _

_ “Hey,” Keith smacks Shiro’s knee, “I’m just being honest here.”  _

_ “Okay, well you know what makes me happy?” Shiro leans down for a kiss before whispering into Keith’s ear. “You.” _

_ “You fucking sap,” mutters Keith, affectionately, the reds and oranges of the sky disguising what’s sure to be a blush on his face.  _

_ But Shiro’s not done yet. “There’s one thing that would make me happier though,” he muses. Keith’s eyebrow quirks, unimpressed. _

_ “Oh  _ **_really_ ** _. And what’s that?” _

_ “If you married me.” The ring makes its appearance, stellar black and shining and nowhere near as priceless as the look on Keith’s face. _

_ “Holy shit. Holy. Shit.  _ **_Holy shit_ ** _?”  _

_ Shiro is smiling so hard, it hurts- but it’s the perfect kind of pain he doesn’t notice because Keith is so dumbfounded- everything Shiro could ever want, that’s what Keith is- “So are you going to say yes or are you just going to keep yelling expletives-” _

_ “I love you-” the words crash into Shiro’s lips, Keith mumbling them like he can’t help the truth of it, saying yes, of course, yes, of course, you  _ **_brilliant fucker_ ** _ and it’s everything Shiro could ever ask for and more. _

“ _ You _ make me happy,” Shiro can’t help it, like it’s a confession he hasn’t said a thousand times before, as if K.E.I.T.H. hasn’t given him that same, perfect smile a thousand times more than that. 

“Oh, Shiro…” The way Keith says his name. Shiro would brave the final frontier there and back to hear it. K.E.I.T.H. hums exactly like Keith would, content and low. “I know.” 

“I love you, Keith- I-” Shiro’s eyes fall shut when Keith’s arms come around him. Never touching but the embrace of forever, settling Shiro in its phantom warmth. No, it’s  _ real  _ warmth.    
“ _ I love you. _ ”

“I love you too, Takashi.”

“Really?” Shiro just needs to hear it. 

“With everything I have.” 

Shiro’s heart settles where it’s supposed to. 

_ “You can let go now, I’ll be here when you get back,” Keith laughs. Maybe it’s a teary laugh.  _

_ “Yeesh, it’s almost like you want me gone,” Shiro replies.  Maybe it’s a watery reply. _

_ But neither of them have let go yet and the maybe tears are real, much too real, and Keith shows no sign of letting go and Shiro doesn’t think he can physically step away.  _

_ It was joke, the wanting Shiro gone thing, but suddenly nothing is funny anymore, and Keith is crying in earnest. “I would never want you gone, Shiro. I wish you could stay- I wish I could go-” There’s a laugh, muffled into Shiro’s chest then, before Keith lifts his head to wipe stray tears from red eyes, a fragile smile on his face. “Well, I guess it’s true that I’ll be going with you, isn’t it? A carbon copy of me?” _

_ “Not carbon- it’s not organic material-” _

_ “You big nerd, you know what I mean. Anyways, I’ll be there, even in space.” The tears only make Keith’s eyes shine brighter. “Thought you could escape that easy, Takashi?” _

_ “Running as fast as I can.”  _

_ His legs won’t even begin to propel him away. _

_ The last kiss is always the shortest. “Come back to me, cadet.” _

 

“How about you read for me? You know I love listening to you read. Tell me about the partial impact theory, Shiro.” It’s a soft, beckoning voice, and Shiro is complacent now. 

Here is the familiar.  Here is home.

Keith settles into a cross-legged pose as Shiro takes the stool next to him.  The sensation of stars aligning equate to Keith leaning his weight on Shiro’s side, head resting on Shiro’s shoulder. And Shiro looks back at Keith’s face, content to listen to him explain the collision of stars, and pulls out his old copy of  _ The Romance of the Heavens _ by Alexander William Bickerton. 

The pages are as comforting as Keith’s presence, Keith’s quiet breathing beside him. Thoughts of a radiant man at a coffee shop long since eclipsed, Shiro begins to read.

**Author's Note:**

> ..........................................
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> hahahaha
> 
>  
> 
> inspired sort of by the lyrics to A.I. by OneRepublic.  
>  _'Member when we met?_  
>  _We fell in love on a Sunday_  
>  _Yeah I'll never forget_  
>  _The way that you spelled my name_  
>  _It took me a year_  
>  _To find a new attraction_  
>  _My hope and my fear_  
>  _Is human interaction_
> 
>  
> 
> _Yeah I just want my love automatic_  
>  _If artificial love makes sense_  
>  _I just want your love, I'm an addict_  
>  _Artificial intelligence_
> 
>  
> 
> _Artificial_  
>  _Artificial_
> 
>  
> 
> _Remember when we met?_  
>  _I got obsessed on a Monday_  
>  _And I'll never forget_  
>  _I felt such a cliche_  
>  _I'm wanting to be there_  
>  _Dreaming of your soft skin_  
>  _With no emotion_  
>  _You can really make my head spin_
> 
>  
> 
> _Yeah I just want my love automatic_  
>  _If artificial love makes sense_  
>  _I just want your love, I'm an addict_  
>  _Artificial intelligence_  
>  _Yeah I just want my love automatic_  
>  _If artificial love makes sense_  
>  _I just want your love, I'm an addict_  
>  _Artificial intelligence_
> 
>  
> 
> _Artificial_  
>  _Artificial_
> 
>  
> 
> _I just want my love automatic_  
>  _If artificial love makes sense_  
>  _I just want your love, I'm an addict_  
>  _Artificial intelligence_
> 
>  
> 
> _You're so too real_  
>  _Love the way you love me_  
>  _Artificial intelligence_  
>  _Way you love me_  
>  _Love the way you love me_  
>  _It's so clear_  
>  _You make everything inside me feel_  
>  _Just automatic hurt_  
>  _Bring me back tonight_  
>  _Cause you're intelligent, so real_  
>  _So real_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, yell at me, also I'm on twitter like 25/8, @celestialchels_  
> My shklance fic WIP: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10410537  
> My shklance oneshot: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10596783


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